Dryer Lint
by TheColorsofSand
Summary: Being Kazekage is an adventure- but not all adventures involve kunai and assassins, sometimes the biggest problems are the everyday ones.


Adventures of the Fifth Kazekage:

Dryer Lint

By: TheColorsofSand

Disclaimer: fan-based content, no ownership implied.

The job came with even more responsibility than Gaara had anticipated. He didn't mind. The confusion following the search for another leader had stressed the Citadel staff beyond any other previous disaster, and everyone from the Elder Council to the janitor's assistant was relieved to find someone to give their heavy troubles to. Gaara was used to troubles large and small, and since he hadn't any other grand plans for the rest of his life, he came to enjoy the job. He dealt with anything from large mission assignments to whether or not to paint the entryway a new shade of blue. From large to small responsibilities, being Kazekage was… interesting.

Some things, however, were just plain _stupid_.

Surely, there was someone else who could deal with this. Really, anyone else would do. Baki looked at him with an expression that mirrored his own thoughts.

"Well, that's what they're asking Gaara-sama." He finished, with an almost apologetic look. _'Sorry I have to waste your time with this.' 'Sorry I had to waste my time with this.' 'Sorry problems like this exist in the first place.'_ Gaara just looked at him for a moment, almost hoping he was joking. Usually Baki's practical jokes were better than this. He stood.

"Looks like we're going for a walk." 

Well, it was certainly a problem. Gaara and Baki rounded the corner, and immediately knew what the complainant was talking about. They had rounded into a narrow alley. The buildings on either side of them reached up to three levels each. Behind these two buildings were two more identical buildings, back to back, separated by no more than three and a half feet. The buildings extended to either street completing a rather small city block. In the alley no less than seventeen active vents spewed out in the hot day even hotter plumes of steam. Streaming from every vent, active and non, was long rivulets of… dryer lint.

It coated the stucco walls, frothed and drifted in the air, collected on the ground all around them. In the narrow alley behind the buildings it had gathered until it was no less than ankle-deep. Blue, black, white, grey, even a few yellow and red bits colored the sand and dirt color of the ground and buildings. There had to be more than two hundred pounds worth of dryer lint littering the alleyway.

Baki blanched at his side, his mouth slightly open. Gaara surveyed the area himself, attempting to keep the same expression off his face. He could feel it in his lungs when he breathed, he could feel it in his eyes when he blinked.

Sunagakure was, more or less, divided into two unofficial, loose, districts. The shinobi, and the civilian. The civilian half of the village tended to be toward the south side, away from the gates, where the less combative could be protected if needed, the shinobi half faced the only gate, where they could move in and out as necessary. The Citadel stood almost in the exact center, more or less marking the two halves. The street just behind it, ran east to west from one side of the village all the way to other.

These buildings stood on that street, the other buildings facing the opposite side, towards the civilian side. Near a natural, regulated well, all four buildings were ideal for Laundromats; two on one half of Suna, and two on the other.

Ninja had to do laundry too.

It was expensive to keep your own washer and dryer, and with the right equipment and staff, the Laundromats did a good amount of business. A hot coin flew from a vent and landed at Gaara's feet. However, they also produced an unusually fussy by-product.

"There used to be regulations about screens and traps, but with the high volume, fires were starting." Baki said. On cue a quick fire flashed through some floating lint and quickly went out. "Unfortunately, now the fires just start on the outside. The problem is that they can't hire a civilian to clean this stuff up. There is a problem with our laundry I guess." Baki added with a shrug. Just then a fierce clattering came from a vent over their heads, something shot out with even more force than the coin, and stuck heavily in the dirt next to Baki's shoe. He kicked the shuriken away, careful not to cut his toes on its edges.

"I haven't seen any requests for a clean-up." Gaara said flatly, still watching the lint drift through the air.

"Well that's the problem. We can't clean it up." Gaara sighed inwardly and turned to Baki, waiting for more.

"Three of the four Laundromats frankly won't pay anyone to do it. And the other claims it isn't producing the majority of the lint, so they _can't _pay anyone to do it. But it's starting to drift into the street and become a… problem." Gaara shook his head.

"So we need to do something about something we can't do anything about." Baki nodded to confirm. "This isn't going to be solved today." He said bluntly and walked away. He heard a sigh from Baki, as he headed toward home.

There was a lot to do. Another request had come in his ridiculous pile of daily requests that he couldn't ignore; two civilian girls were missing since the day before, and he'd yet to find out how that was going; part of the Citadel was being remodeled again, and his siblings insisted on an increased guard because of it. He was short on people, heavy on problems, and had no solutions for something like massive stacks of dryer lint. 

The roof at night was a beloved respite from the work and the heat of the day. The high cliff walls of the village were just as nice, with an added bonus of an excuse to watch the village below; a good place to construct or ignore lists, relax for a few brief hours, or walk a while without someone bringing new news or needs to him.

After a long day, Gaara was glad for the time to himself. He'd sent his brother out again, to assassinate a political figure of some kind. Two girls were found outside the gate, one nearly dead of exposure, but doing alright now. Three missions came back perfect successes, and one utterly botched. His sister had returned from Konoha, and Gaara had forgotten all about the peculiar problem that had plagued him earlier in the day. Now he concentrated on nothing more than the slight breeze, and putting one foot in front of the other as he walked over the empty walls.

His time alone did not last long, as the familiar smell of a burnt match reached his nose, followed by a quiet muttering. The wind wafted the sounds over to him as he searched ahead in the dark for the source. Just ahead, beside a boulder he saw a spark start up, and could make out the outline of a man, crouching against the rock. On the ground before him there was a brief flame, then nothing. The man cursed again.

Gaara approached very quietly, hopping up on the boulder above the young man. He watched, now able to see just what it was he was intending to do. Before him, on the ground, were four small piles of sticky polyester fiber. The young man lit a match and attempted to light one on fire, but the flame quickly died. The other three had similar scorch marks.

"Polyester is more likely to melt than burn." Gaara said. They young man jerked his head up, and promptly fell over, shaking. He paused when he saw him, gulping a breath or two.

"You almost scared the life out of me!" He half screeched. "I didn't see you there." The man looked up at him, squinting to get a better look, then his eyes went wide when he recognized him. He scrambled to his feet.

"What are you trying to do?" Gaara asked, he hoped gently, he didn't look like he need any other excuse to be jumpy. The young man blushed.

"Trying to get those to burn."

"Why?" He opened his mouth, then closed it again, putting his hands in his pockets and staring at the ground.

"It's… kind of stupid." Gaara only looked at him, clearly indicating that he go on. After a moment he continued. "You see, a few months ago, we were headed home after a mission, and we got caught in the north desert at night. That wouldn't have been a problem, but we were pretty bare, and just worn down. We didn't have any fire fuel, it got ridiculously cold, and two of us almost died of hypothermia." Gaara nodded. He remembered the report now, though for the life of him, he could not come up with the man's name. "I got to thinking that carrying fire fuel wouldn't be a bad idea, but I'm at a loss as to how to find something light enough, small enough, and keep a good flame for enough time to start bad fuels burning. Extra clothes and things like that take up too much space. Wool and cotton are a bit expensive, and this stuff just doesn't want to burn." He shrugged. "Stupid idea."

"Not at all." They all knew the dangers. Most fire fuel in the desert was hard to find, and when found, difficult to burn. Travelling to the north was especially dangerous, as the desert was very empty in that direction. Under the right conditions, hypothermia on the colder nights was a risk, especially when exhausted and exposed.

"I mixed it with a tallow, but it just melts. I need something else, but if a want to make it available to everyone it has to be easy to find, and really cheap to burn. But it a place like this, what can we get that we can just burn?" Gaara nodded absently. It was a problem.

In the middle of the desert, in a ninja village, most everything from food, to clothing, to entertainment had to be brought in. The only thing they were able to produce well themselves were services, man-power. It got expensive living in the middle of the desert. It was life, and no one complained, but it still remained. What _could_ they afford to bring in just to take right back out and burn in the desert?

A sudden thought occurred.

"What about dryer lint?"


End file.
